


You Can't Stay

by whitneychriss



Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: Character Bleed, First Time, M/M, Season 9 Spoilers, angsty, kind of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-25
Updated: 2013-10-25
Packaged: 2017-12-30 10:09:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,258
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1017338
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whitneychriss/pseuds/whitneychriss
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is my own version of a 'fix it' for 9X03, 'I'm No Angel'. Jensen is left with questions after filming a particularly emotional scene with Misha.</p>
            </blockquote>





	You Can't Stay

**Author's Note:**

> I own nothing, but the work itself. I'm also not under any false allusion that this is actually a real thing. I honestly just wrote it to make myself feel better about 9X03. That being said, this is my first fanfic. Ever. Kudos/comments/constructive criticism is encouraged. ENJOY.

_“You can’t stay.”_

The words still echoed in Jensen’s head hours after filming had ended. His plan was to go back to his trailer, look over his script for the next day and head home. So far, all he had managed to do was change out of Dean’s clothes, fall onto his couch and try to shake the day away. He’s been doing this long enough to know that feeling this down after a take like that was not uncommon, but usually he’s able to shake it faster than this.

He wasn’t under any false pretenses, the more scenes he had like this with Misha the harder it was to recover. It was like with Jared, except that it wasn’t. Not really. But he tried his damnedest to ignore it, and any other day he could. But today wasn’t one of those days.

The still functioning part of his brain told him Misha had been acting. The look in Misha’s eyes that Jensen saw every time he closed his wasn’t one of his hurt, but of his characters. But that didn’t stop him from overanalyzing every bit of the scene. The lines Cas had said to Dean. Reminding him that he enjoyed his company and their talks, even when Dean was about to make him leave. He knew it was necessary to the story. Knew that the codependency of the brothers was nothing new, knew that Sam would die if Zeke had left instead. But none of that meant that it made it any easier on Dean and Cas, or even on Jensen for that matter.

“Fuck it.” Jensen swung his legs off the couch and headed for the door. The likelihood that Misha was still here this late was pretty slim, but he knew he wouldn’t feel any better about this until he had talked to him. Even if that meant he had to make the trip to his apartment before going to his own. He grabbed his phone and shut the door behind him, heading to Misha’s trailer. As expected, there was no answer to his knock and after waiting for 5 minutes he decided to try a different approach. He took his phone from his pocket and typed out a quick text.

_I’m coming over._

He had expected a reply by the time he drove the 20 minutes to Misha’s apartment, but no such luck. He banged loudly on the door, probably louder than he should’ve given the time. After a couple minutes he heard the sound of feet scrambling towards the door. Misha slung the door open, pulling a gust of wind in with him and Jensen stared for a moment before coming back to his senses. Misha was clad in running shorts and a tshirt that was sweat soaked.

“What the hell are you doing?” He heard Misha finally ask.

“I needed to talk to you. I sent you a text before I came, but I –uh- I guess you didn’t get it.”

“No, I didn’t. Come in before you wake the whole damn neighborhood.”

Jensen shuffled in, uncertain of what he wanted or needed to say even after the drive and the hours he’d spent in his trailer simmering. He decided to go for casual before something ridiculous slipped out of his mouth that he couldn’t take back.

“What’s with the clothes? It’s a little late for a run, isn’t it?”

“Probably. But I couldn’t sleep, so it seemed to be the best option.”

Misha offered him a drink that he took gratefully and they waited in comfortable silence for Jensen to speak again. This was one of the reasons he loved Misha, and their relationship. Misha could be a handful, Jensen was the first to admit it, but he also knew when something was wrong. He knew when to stay quiet and wait on Jensen to confide in him, he knew not to push, that Jensen would get there eventually.

“Today was rough, Mish.”

“What do you mean?”

“Our ending scene, it was rough. We did it, and I think it came out great, but I have no intention of watching it play back the night it airs.”

“How come?” Misha knew how to push the right buttons too, get Jensen to lay it all out there instead of prying it out of him.

“You looked hurt, Mish.”

“That’s my job, Jen.”

“No, not Cas. You. You looked hurt.”

It was a rare moment when Misha didn’t know what to say, but Jensen knew. He had been right, that hadn’t been all Cas. Jensen found his feet carrying him from the stool he had sat down on over to Misha who stood in the corner where the counters met. His arm stretching out and landing on Misha’s forearm of its own accord.

“Misha, w-why didn’t you say something?” He wasn’t prepared for the look in Misha’s eyes when he finally looked up at him again. It was the same one, the same one that brought him here. The same one that hurt him to his core, and he wasn’t dutifully ignoring it anymore.

“What did you want me to say, Jen? That I couldn’t film the scene because it felt too real? Because even though it was Dean saying it to Cas, it felt like you were talking to me? Was I supposed to say I couldn’t handle it because I can’t stand the thought of you saying something like that to me? Was I supposed to say, ‘Sorry, this happens to be the guy I’m in love with, do you think you can come up with something else’?”

Misha’s head hung again, his eyes pulled away from Jensen’s. Jensen knew his mouth was hanging open, but he didn’t have enough brain power to close it right now. Was it possible that this was a two way street? That the feelings he’s been pushing down for years were mirrored in the man in front of him? His hand found Misha’s chin. He needed to see those eyes. The ones that couldn’t hide the true emotion, no matter the wit Misha could deal out. Sure enough, they reflected what he feared. Hurt, anguish, and most of all, honesty.

It didn’t take much, just a slip of his hand from Misha’s chin to his neck. His fingers wrapping around as he pulled him in. Misha’s breath ghosted over his lips, and that was it. No more waiting. Jensen crushed his lips to Misha’s, harder than he intended, but he didn’t have a lot of self-control when it came to this man.

He could feel the startled jump from the other man. The barely there hesitancy before he was kissing him back. His tongue swiping the seam of Jensen’s lips, wanting in. Jensen opened willingly, not trying to stop the groan wretched from his throat when Misha’s tongue found his own. His head was swimming with the comparison of fantasy to reality. The way Misha’s chapped lips felt soft but pliant beneath his own.

They broke away for breath that they both unfortunately required. Their foreheads pressing together as Jensen whispered, “Mish, I’m sorry.”

“You didn’t know.”

And then they were kissing again. Jensen’s hands wrapping around the sharp hipbones that he’d only let himself think about in the darkest recesses of his mind. Gripping them tight and hauling Misha up onto the counter, slotting himself between his thighs. His hands pushing the sweat soaked fabric up over his body, pulling their mouths away long enough for Jensen to pull the shirt over his head and toss it to the side. His mouth found Misha’s skin again, this time on the curve of his neck. He felt the stubble he constantly kept against his mouth, felt Misha’s pulse against his lips. He bit down lightly, careful not to leave a mark that would have to be covered tomorrow before he ran his tongue over the same place.

The groan broke from the man in front of him this time and damn if that didn’t do things to him he had only dreamed about. His hands fell to rest on Misha’s back as his tongue traced the line of his collar bone. He pulled hard, feeling Misha’s erection hot against his own through the fabric.

“Fuck, Misha.” He moaned into his ear as he felt Misha nip gently at his earlobe.

“That’s the idea.”

It had been a long time since he’d been turned on enough to come in his pants, but if they didn’t lose more clothes soon. That’s what was going to happen. It was like Misha had read his mind, his hands traveling down to the seam of Jensen’s t-shirt and tugging it up and over his head.

When Misha’s mouth found his again, Jensen couldn’t help but think that this was comical on some level. All the time he had spent denying how he felt, chalking it up to being on set too long, to the characters chemistry, to being good friends with Misha and that’s what made it work. He had no hesitancy like he always thought, something inside him knew exactly what to do, which he couldn’t help but be grateful for considering the blood that belonged to his brain was rushing south pretty rapidly.

He felt Misha’s hands on his belt then, unhooking it and thumbing open the button of his jeans. He stopped short of the zipper though, instead cupping Jensen in his palm, trailing his fingers teasingly over his erection through the denim.

“Please.” He heard himself beg, but he couldn’t be bothered to think through the fact that Misha bringing this out in him already didn’t bode well for the future.

Misha pushed himself off the counter, pressing his body into Jensen’s, letting his hands slide between them to find the zipper again, pulling it down this time. He hooked his thumbs into the jeans and boxers Jensen had underneath. He could barely make out what he said, focusing too much on the drag of the fabric over his cock.

“I hope you’re ready. Because I’ve wanted this for too long to wait on you.”

“Yes. Yes, Mish.”

He shimmied on out of his pants, kicking them off to the side before he decided the state of undress wasn’t equal between them. He slid his tongue into Misha’s mouth again, as his hands tugged the shorts off the hips he needed to devour.

He felt Misha slipping to his knees and pulling him down to where his body lingered over Misha on the floor. His hands being cooled by the tile of the floor did nothing to stop the heat that consumed him. Eyes stared up at him, just watching him as he took it all in. When he finally met them again, he saw the same desire he was sure was in his own. The blue that drove him mad only a sliver, given in to the blown pupils.

And then he lowered himself. They swallowed each other’s groans as he felt their cocks slide together for the first time, feeling the friction he so desperately craved. He felt hands squeezing his ass, forcing him to set a rhythm. Slow at first but building. He pulled up enough to see the look on the face of the man under him, hypnotized by the noises he was making. The tightness in his gut becoming more pronounced as the desire to see him come undone overtook him.

“Fuck, Jensen. Yes.” His pace quickened, the hand not holding him up sliding between them to take their lengths into his hands. Using the precome leaking from them both to make the slide easier. His mouth tipped back down to lick at the sensitive spots he had found earlier, pushing Misha toward his orgasm before he would tumble over himself. He couldn’t wait much longer, that he knew. He moved his head to Misha’s ear.

“Come for me, Mish. Let me see you. Come for me.” A groan followed his words and then he felt the come streaking his hand. His own orgasm hitting him as he felt Misha shake under him.

“Dammit. Fuck. Yes, Misha.” He continued to talk, but he couldn’t tell you what he said. He was too focused on the mouth nipping at any skin it could reach as shudders racked his body.

His hand had caught the come that hadn’t smeared itself over their stomachs. And he swore if he hadn’t just had one of the most intense orgasms of his life that he would come again as he watched Misha raise his hand to his mouth, wrapping his tongue around Jensen’s fingers sucking them clean, licking a flat line up his palm as he watched. He couldn’t hold himself up anymore and he lowered himself to Misha’s side when his hand finally fell away from the man’s mouth. His hand wrapped around his side as he pulled Misha into him, letting his nose rest in his hair.

They laid there for what seemed like an infinite amount of time, just breathing. Enjoying the warmth despite the cool floor under them. When Misha started to squirm he grew nervous, hoping not to give up this thing he had wanted for so long. Before he could move away Jensen pulled Misha’s mouth to his own. This kiss lacked the pace of the ones before, but not the need. Not the tender pull. He pulled away long enough to see blue eyes meeting his green and he knew what he had to say.

“You can stay.”


End file.
